by E. L. James
“Total Power Exchange—around the clock.” My mind whirls as I think of the possibilities. She’s curious. “So you have no choice,” I add, with a playful tone.
“Clearly.” Her tone is sarcastic and she rolls her eyes to the heavens, perhaps looking for divine inspiration to understand my sense of humor.
Oh, sweet joy.
“Anastasia Steele, did you just roll your eyes at me?”
“No!”
“I think you did. What did I say I’d do to you if you rolled your eyes at me again?” My words hang between us and I sit down again on the bed. “Come here.”
For a moment she stares at me, blanching. “I haven’t signed,” she whispers.
“I told you what I’d do. I’m a man of my word. I’m going to spank you, and then I’m going to fuck you very quick and very hard. Looks like we’ll need that condom after all.”
Will she? Won’t she? This is it. Proof of whether she can do this or not. I watch her, impassive, waiting for her to decide. If she says no, it means she’s paying lip service to the idea of being my submissive.
And that will be it.
Make the right choice, Ana.
Her expression is grave, her eyes wide, and I think she’s weighing up her decision.
“I’m waiting,” I murmur. “I’m not a patient man.”
Taking a deep breath, she unfurls her legs and crawls toward me, and I hide my relief.
“Good girl. Now stand up.”
She does as she’s told, and I offer her my hand. She lays the condom on my palm, and I grasp her hand and abruptly pull her over my left knee, so that her head, shoulders, and chest are resting on the bed. I drape my right leg over her legs, holding her in place. I’ve wanted to do this since she asked me if I was gay. “Put your hands up on either side of your head,” I order and she complies immediately. “Why am I doing this, Anastasia?”
“Because I rolled my eyes at you,” she says in a hoarse whisper.
“Do you think that’s polite?”
“No.”
“Will you do it again?”
“No.”
“I will spank you each time you do it, do you understand?”
I’m going to savor this moment. It’s another first.
With great care—relishing the deed—I tug down her sweatpants. Her beautiful behind is naked and ready for me. As I place my hand on her backside, she tenses every muscle in her body…waiting. Her skin is soft to the touch and I sweep my palm across both cheeks, fondling each. She has a fine, fine ass. And I’m going to make it pink…like the champagne.
Lifting my palm, I smack her, hard, just above the junction of her thighs.
She gasps and tries to rise, but I hold her down with my other hand at the small of her back, and I soothe the area I’ve just hit with a slow, gentle caress.
She stays still.
Panting.
Anticipating.
Yes. I’m going to do that again.
I smack her once, twice, three times.
She grimaces at the pain, her eyes screwed shut. But she doesn’t ask me to stop even though she’s squirming beneath me.
“Keep still, or I’ll spank you for longer,” I warn.
I rub her sweet flesh and start again, taking turns: left cheek, right cheek, middle.
She cries out. But she doesn’t move her arms, and she still doesn’t ask me to stop.
“I’m just getting warmed up.” My voice is husky. I smack her again, and trace the pink handprint I’ve left on her skin. Her ass is pinking up nicely. It looks glorious.
I smack her once more.
And she cries out again.
“No one to hear you, baby, just me.”
I spank her over and over—the same pattern, left cheek, right cheek, middle—and she yelps each time. When I reach eighteen I stop. I’m breathless, my palm is stinging, and my cock is rigid.
“Enough,” I rasp, trying to catch my breath. “Well done, Anastasia. Now I’m going to fuck you.”
I stroke her pink behind gently, round and round, moving down. She’s wet.
And my body gets harder.
I insert two fingers into her vagina.
“Feel this. See how much your body likes this. You’re soaking, just for me.” I slide my fingers in and out, and she groans, her body curling around them with each push and her breathing accelerating.
I withdraw them.
I want her. Now.
“Next time, I will get you to count. Now, where’s that condom?” Grabbing it from beside her head, I ease her gently off my lap and onto the bed, facedown. Unzipping my fly, I don’t bother to remove my jeans, and I make short work of the foil packet, rolling the condom on quickly and efficiently. I lift her hips until she’s kneeling and her ass in all its rosy glory is poised in the air as I stand behind her.
“I’m going to take you now. You can come,” I growl, caressing her behind and grabbing my cock. With one swift thrust I’m inside her.
She moans as I move. In. Out. In. Out. I pound into her, watching my cock disappear beneath her pink backside.
Her mouth is open wide and she grunts and groans with each thrust, her cries getting higher and higher.
Come on, Ana.
She clenches around me and cries out as she comes, hard.
“Oh, Ana!” I follow her over the edge as I climax into her and lose all time and perspective.
I collapse at her side, pull her on top of me, and, wrapping my arms around her, I whisper into her hair, “Oh, baby, welcome to my world.”
Her weight anchors me, and she makes no attempt to touch my chest. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is returning to normal. I stroke her hair. It’s soft, a rich mahogany, shining in the glow of her bedside light. She smells of Ana and apples and sex. It’s heady. “Well done, baby.”
She’s not in tears. She did as she was asked. She’s faced every challenge I’ve thrown at her; she really is quite remarkable. I finger the thin strap of her cheap cotton camisole. “Is this what you sleep in?”
“Yes.” She sounds drowsy.
“You should be in silks and satins, you beautiful girl. I’ll take you shopping.”
“I like my sweats,” she argues.
Of course she does.
I kiss her hair. “We’ll see.”
Closing my eyes, I relax in our quiet moment, a strange contentment warming me, filling me up inside.
This feels right. Too right.
“I have to go,” I murmur, and kiss her forehead. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” she says, sounding a little subdued.
Gently I roll out from underneath her and get up. “Where’s your bathroom?” I ask, taking off the used condom and zipping up my jeans.
“Down the hall to the left.”
In the bathroom I discard the condoms in a trash bin and spy a bottle of baby oil on the shelf.
That’s what I need.
She’s dressed when I return, evading my gaze. Why so shy suddenly?
“I found some baby oil. Let me rub it into your behind.”
“No. I’ll be fine,” she says, examining her fingers, still avoiding eye contact.
“Anastasia,” I warn her.
Please just do as you’re told.
I sit down behind her and tug down her sweatpants. Squirting some baby oil on my hand, I rub it tenderly into her sore ass.
She puts her hands on her hips in an obstinate stance, but stays silent.
“I like my hands on you,” I admit out loud to myself. “There.” I pull her sweatpants up. “I’m leaving now.”
“I’ll see you out,” she says quietly, standing aside. I take her hand and reluctantly let go when we reach the front door. Part of me doesn’t want to leave.
“Don’t you have to call
Taylor?” she asks, her eyes fixed on the zipper of my leather jacket.
“Taylor’s been here since nine. Look at me.”
Large blue eyes peek up at me through long, dark lashes.
“You didn’t cry.” My voice is low.
And you let me spank you. You’re amazing.
I grab her and kiss her, pouring my gratitude into the kiss and holding her close. “Sunday,” I whisper, fevered, against her lips. I release her abruptly before I’m tempted to ask her if I can stay, and I head out to where Taylor is waiting in the SUV. Once I’m in the car I look back, but she’s gone. She’s probably tired…like me.
Pleasantly tired.
That has to have been the most pleasurable “soft limits” conversation I’ve ever had.
Damn, that woman is unexpected. Closing my eyes, I see her riding me, her head tipped back in ecstasy. Ana does not do things halfheartedly. She commits. And to think she had sex for the first time only a week ago.
With me. And no one else.
I grin as I stare out the car window, but all I see is my ghostly face reflected in the glass. So I close my eyes and allow myself to daydream.
Training her will be fun.
TAYLOR WAKES ME FROM my doze. “We’re here, Mr. Grey.”
“Thank you,” I mumble. “I have a meeting in the morning.”
“At the hotel?”
“Yes. Videoconference. I won’t need to be driven anywhere. But I’d like to leave before lunch.”
“What time would you like me to pack?”
“Ten thirty.”
“Very good, sir. The BlackBerry you asked for will be delivered to Miss Steele tomorrow.”
“Good. That reminds me. Can you collect her old Beetle tomorrow and dispose of it? I don’t want her driving it.”
“Of course. I have a friend who restores vintage cars. He might be interested. I’ll deal with it. Will there be anything else?”
“No thank you. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I leave Taylor to park the SUV and make my way up to my suite.
Opening a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge, I sit down at the desk and switch on my laptop.
No urgent e-mails.
But my real purpose is to say good night to Ana.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: You
Date: May 26 2011 23:14
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
You are quite simply exquisite. The most beautiful, intelligent, witty, and brave woman I have ever met. Take some Advil—this is not a request. And don’t drive your Beetle again. I will know.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
She’ll probably be asleep, but I keep my laptop open just in case and check e-mail. A few minutes later her response arrives.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Flattery
Date: May 26 2011 23:20
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
Flattery will get you nowhere, but since you’ve been everywhere, the point is moot.
I will need to drive my Beetle to a garage so I can sell it—so will not graciously accept any of your nonsense over that. Red wine is always more preferable to Advil.
Ana
P.S.: Caning is a HARD limit for me.
Her opening line makes me laugh out loud. Oh, baby, I have not been everywhere I want to go with you. Red wine on top of champagne? Not a clever mix, and caning is off the list. I wonder what else she’ll object to as I compose my reply.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Frustrating Women Who Can’t Take Compliments
Date: May 26 2011 23:26
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I am not flattering you. You should go to bed.
I accept your addition to the hard limits.
Don’t drink too much.
Taylor will dispose of your car and get a good price for it, too.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I hope she’s in bed now.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Taylor—Is He the Right Man for the Job?
Date: May 26 2011 23:40
To: Christian Grey
Dear Sir,
I am intrigued that you are happy to risk letting your right-hand man drive my car but not some woman you fuck occasionally. How can I be sure that Taylor is the man to get me the best deal for said car? I have, in the past, probably before I met you, been known to drive a hard bargain.
Ana
What the hell? Some woman I fuck occasionally?
I have to take a deep breath. Her response irks me…no, infuriates me. How dare she talk about herself like that? As my submissive she’ll be so much more than that. I’ll be devoted to her. Does she not realize this?
And she has driven a hard bargain with me. Good God! Look at all the concessions I’ve made with regard to the contract.
I count to ten, and to calm down, I visualize myself aboard The Grace, my catamaran, sailing on the Sound.
Flynn would be proud.
I respond.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Careful!
Date: May 26 2011 23:44
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I am assuming it is the RED WINE talking, and that you’ve had a very long day.
Though I am tempted to drive back over there to ensure that you don’t sit down for a week, rather than an evening.
Taylor is ex-army and capable of driving anything from a motorcycle to a Sherman tank. Your car does not present a hazard to him.
Now please do not refer to yourself as “some woman I fuck occasionally” because, quite frankly, it makes me MAD, and you really wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I exhale slowly, steadying my heart rate. Who else on earth has the ability to get under my skin like this?
She doesn’t write back immediately. Perhaps she’s intimidated by my response. I pick up my book, but soon find that I’ve read the same paragraph three times while awaiting her reply. I look up for the umpteenth time.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Careful Yourself
Date: May 26 2011 23:57
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
I’m not sure I like you anyway, especially at the moment.
Miss Steele
I stare at her reply, and all my anger withers and dies, to be replaced by a surge of anxiety.
Shit.
Is she saying that’s it?
FRIDAY, MAY 27, 2011
* * *
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Careful Yourself
Date: May 27 2011 00:03
To: Anastasia Steele
Why don’t you like me?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I get up and open another bottle of sparkling water.
And wait.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Careful Yourself
Date: May 27 2011 00:09
To: Christian Grey
Because you never stay with me.
Six words.
Six little words that make my scalp tingle.
I told her that I didn’t sleep with anyone.
But today was a bi
g day.
She graduated from college.
She said yes.
We went through all those soft limits that she knew nothing about. We fucked. I spanked her. We fucked again.
Shit.
And before I can stop myself, I grab the garage ticket for my car, pick up a jacket, and I’m out the door.
THE ROADS ARE EMPTY and I’m at her place twenty-three minutes later.
I knock quietly, and Kavanagh opens the door.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” she shouts, her eyes blazing with anger.
Whoa. Not the reception I was expecting.
“I’ve come to see Ana.”
“Well, you can’t!” Kavanagh stands with arms folded and legs braced in the doorway, like a gargoyle.
I try reasoning with her. “But I need to see her. She sent me an e-mail.” Get out of my way!
“What the fuck have you done to her now?”
“That’s what I need to find out.” I grit my teeth.
“Ever since she met you she cries all the time.”
“What?” I can’t deal with her shit anymore, and I barge past her.
“You can’t come in here!” Kavanagh follows me, shrieking like a harpy, as I storm through the apartment to Ana’s bedroom.
I open Ana’s door and switch on the main light. She’s huddled in her bed, wrapped in her comforter. Her eyes are red and puffy, and squinting in the overhead light. Her nose is swollen and blotchy.
I’ve seen women in this state many times, especially after I’ve punished them. But I’m surprised by the unease that grips my gut.
“Jesus, Ana.” I flick the main light off so she doesn’t have to squint and I sit on the bed beside her.
“What are you doing here?” She’s sniffling. I turn on her bedside light.
“Do you want me to throw this asshole out?” Kate barks from the doorway.
Fuck you, Kavanagh. Raising an eyebrow, I pretend to ignore her.
Ana shakes her head, but her watery eyes are on me.
“Just holler if you need me,” Kate says to Ana, as if she were a child. “Grey,” she snaps, so I’m obliged to look at her. “You’re on my shit list, and I’m watching you.” She sounds shrill, her eyes glinting with fury, but I don’t give a fuck.
